Tangled
by Occulting
Summary: Tannis Killiken's grandfather has secrets in the basement. Tom Riddle wants to know what they are.
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Tangled

 **Summary:** Tannis Killiken's grandfather has skeletons in his closet. Tom Riddle wants to know what they are.

 **Rating:** T(+)

 **Author's Notes:** This is the first story I've published in a looong time, and the first on this account. Thanks for checking it out. :) Please note that there is a possible trigger warning in this chapter for self harm, although "self harm," as you understand it, is not what's being depicted. Anyway! On with the show.

* * *

Chapter One

* * *

The cellars were deathly cold, this far underground.

Tannis shivered as she looked down at the strange golden knife that sat heavy in the palm of her hand. The ring of candles she had placed meticulously around her sigil flickered in an unfelt breeze, and the chalk circle she had drawn on the cellar floor appeared to transmogrify wildly in the candlelight. Wrapping her fingers firmly around the dagger's handle, she leaned over to read in the dim light, running a finger along the words of the heavy old book she had found hidden in the locked cabinet inside her grandfather's study. When her hair touched the page, the words wiggled, as if written in something living.

Grandfather had told her that things this old had stories, lives of their own. This book must have lived many lives, she thought, given how peculiar it was. In the time she had spent poring over its pages, searching and wishing, it had begun to hum, to resonate, to call to her when she wasn't there. The closer she got, the better to read, the stronger its hum became. It seemed to pulsate with her every breath, like a heartbeat, as though it were eager to absorb her magic, to swallow her whole. When she read from it, she smelled lilies, molasses, something odd and smoky. In anticipation, or perhaps in fear, she felt her hands begin to shake.

 _"Aperi vulnere mors enim generandi,"_ she whispered. _"Offero refundens perdidisti, ita ut supra, possunt infra."_ The unfamiliar language rolled off her tongue from nights spent practicing, hidden quietly beneath the cover of her quilt.

The flames around her lengthened, tall and straight, like the trunks of soldier pines. The air became thick with something alien, and Tannis felt as though she had been submerged in temperate water. The lengths of her dark hair lifted around her head like a halo, suspended in the mounting energy her incantation had produced, and the interior of her chalk circle had turned an inky black, seemingly untouched by the light of the candles. The spell inside the grimoire was glowing.

She shook harder now; Tannis tightened her grip on the knife, breathing as deeply as she could manage in the spell's building pressure. Extending her forearm above the void she had created inside the circle, she closed her eyes. Her voice wavered as she spoke.

" _Revorto_ ," she pleaded, digging the knife into the flesh of her arm. She squeezed her eyes tight, anticipating the pain, but felt none. Reopening them, one at a time, she looked down at the wound. Though her arms had begun to shake as the pressure around her grew, and her blood, black in the darkness of the cellar, had started to flow downwards to her wrist, it was as if she had but touched her skin with a feather, the end of a quill. Her eyes, however, were full of tears. Some pains were more difficult to ignore.

" _Revorto_ ," repeated Tannis, rotating her arm. The blood dripped from her wrists to the floor— _into_ the floor, she realized with a start. Immediately, the spell in the book ceased to glow; the candles around her burned out. She nearly cried out, overcome with dread. _It didn't work,_ she bemused, shrouded in doubt and darkness. She shut her eyes, hot, fat tears streaming down her face.

Then, the spell worked.

Suddenly, the candles were relit—enormous pillars of bright green flame—and the floor beneath her opened. She screamed, falling into the rapidly expanding abyss, and her hands clutched desperately at the book that remained where it had been, seemingly suspended over the void her spell had created. Her crying worsened. The book was steady, as if still sat on the cellar floor, but how long could she hold on? There was a deafening roar in the air around her, like the yawn of an enormous beast awakened from its slumber. The pressure she had felt continued to intensify, and worse, now; her nose began to bleed. Tannis clamped her eyes shut once more, fading quickly, waiting for death. In the back of her mind, she could see her mother's smile, the fire that had stolen her. Praemonitus, praemunitus. She wondered what mum would think if she saw her now.

Above her head, a great white light erupted, shining bright above the abyss. The green glow of the candles strained against it, battling to defend against the intrusion, and created a dome over the chasm that blinded her. She could not see the wizard who saved her as he walked across the abysm, as if it were a ceiling made of glass, but she felt herself pulled suddenly from the depths of the void, cradled in strong, familiar arms.

" _Finite_ ," he said—strong, frightened, angry—and raised his wand. The darkness screamed, and Tannis fainted, the front of her jumper covered in blood.

* * *

August, 1943

* * *

Tannis Killiken and her grandfather lived in the same bastle house near the Bowmont Water that their family had lived in for centuries. Some summer nights, she would walk barefoot across the wold to dip her feet in the river and look up at the stars, searching for constellations. On good nights, she could make out the giant Ophiuchus, his starlight serpent languishing brightly across the sky. Sometimes, she would sit on the riverbank and think of her mother, and wonder if she, too, could ever learn to bring back the dead.

If the secret was hidden anywhere, Tannis used to imagine, it would be in the cellars below the house, which tunneled underground for what felt like forever, and were full of the myriad and mysterious curios her grandfather had collected over his career: dog eared books (that sometimes barked), doxy skeletons as small as her hands, looking glasses you should never look into, and a great many things she was sure she'd never seen, never dreamed of, and never would, if grandfather had his way. Years spent searching for sympathetic artifacts, experimenting, cataloguing for her grandfather, had left her with nothing more than dashed hopes and lost innocence. As she grew, her hopes had faded, replaced with the demands of her lessons, the direction of her future.

"Magic can't make the dead living again, Tan," grandfather had told her solemnly once as they sat on the roof of the house one late summer night, his face cast in the light of one of his floating fires she had been so fond of as a girl. She had just turned eleven, and asked him what sort of magic they taught at Hogwarts.

"Your mother is still here, with us," her grandfather had said. "She hasn't gone anywhere. There's nowhere to bring her back from."

But if she wasn't gone, why did she miss her so badly?

Acamar Killiken was as good a guardian as any, and better. He was the kind of man whose magic was palpable, an accomplished academic who had been in Ravenclaw himself in his own day, just like Tannis and her mother before her. But he was no replacement for mum. Her mother may have lacked the decades of experience her grandfather possessed, but she had been a remarkable witch in her own way, always experimenting, pushing limits. Still, growing up in her grandfather's care had its own unique benefits, and under his dedicated encouragement, Tannis was fast becoming a first-rate witch. He meant the world to her, for that and more.

August was a busy month for Tannis and her grandfather. For Tannis, its coming signaled that the new term was ever faster approaching. While her homework was done, and had been done for ages, she had her own projects to wrap up. Grandfather let her practice her potion craft over holidays, because it was both her passion and inherently difficult for the Ministry to trace. She had spent this summer like many before it, poring over strange old tomes that she'd wager even Slughorn hadn't seen, brewing tonics, toying with exotic ingredients. This was seductive and undeniably formative, but made for messy work. The top cellar—the only one she was allowed into on her own, anymore—was littered with open books and half-full apothecary jars, which would each need to be tidied, catalogued, and replenished when she went to London for her school shopping.

In her grandfather's case, the wizard was preparing for a long trip to South America, which meant the kitchen table was about as messy as the cellar, or worse, but instead with yellowed maps and scattered piles of curious bits of equipment. "Unfinished business," he had called the expedition, reassuring her that while he was no spring mandrake, he had lived half his life living out of a rucksack, and now that she was older, it was the perfect—and perhaps final—opportunity for him to revisit his work.

"When they write me, after you've died," she had countered, "I'd appreciate it if they did it in English."

The old man smiled at that, digging into a poached egg over breakfast one morning. "When are you going to London? You're running out of time."

"Soon, soon," she waved her hand, deflecting the question. "I don't want to go myself, and the Foxing-Lessons are still in Tasmania on holiday. Got to wait for Darley. I'd never hear the end of it if I went without her." The later, the better, as far as Tannis was concerned. This far north, they had escaped much of the dangers of the Muggle war, and the Muggle world held little mystery for her.

The morning she finally received the owl—an abominable sort of long ear she knew was called Philomena—Tannis made her final trek of the summer down to the Water, and read the note in the twilight hours on the riverbank. The stationery was a regal shade of indigo, gilded by Darletta Foxing-Lessons' signature ostentatious script, which was printed in a handsome silver ink. As always, she would meet her friend at Sugarplum's, on Wednesday at high noon, _'and you'd better have my jumper! xoxo'_

She stared out at the river and listened to the sounds of late summer, reveling in the crisp August air. The sky was a haze of misty blues and ochres, and the trees and weeds were alive with a symphony of doves and crickets. The river babbled, smooth and quiet, and the grass beneath her was long and soft. She looked back over her shoulder, and saw the telltale smoke beginning to rise from the bastle chimney. Supper would be ready soon; grandfather would expect her back, before long.

For a solitary moment, she felt an immense, unnamed sadness, and could not draw her eye from it as it danced up and away to meet the brightly glowing clouds. This would be her sixth year at Hogwarts, and by the sound of things, when she returned home for Christmas, grandfather wouldn't be here to receive her. How many more Christmases would they have together, before she left home, or she lost grandfather to his studies, like she'd lost mum? What if this term was as tumultuous as the last—what if _she_ was the one who ended up dead? She couldn't say why— _probably nothing,_ she told herself—but somewhere deep within, she felt the unsteady pull one feels when standing on the edge of a precipice. Between what and where, she wasn't sure. There was simply something in the air, and grandfather had raised her to always put stock in things felt in the air. Perhaps she was just getting old.

Suddenly, she heard a rustling in the trees along the northern bank of the Bowmont. She clutched lightly at the end of her wand, to be safe, her eyes straining to see in the fast-approaching darkness.

A rustle and a quiet splash, and into the water from betwixt the trees came a single spotted doe, almost unearthly in its delicacy. She hadn't even heard it approach. For a moment, Tannis thought the deer hadn't seen her, either, for how still it was, how lightly it treaded. But then the doe looked directly at her, observing her calmly, and Tannis could no longer pretend she was unseen. The doe stood there, still in the water, watching Tannis watching her, for moments, minutes, a lifetime. Then, as softly as she had come, the doe turned, walking eastward along the bank of the river, its silhouette retreating quietly against the darkening horizon.

Tannis stood, still watching the animal, knowing before too long, the sky would turn completely, and the walk home would seem all the longer. Just as she did, however, the doe stopped in its path, craning its neck to give the witch a final parting appraisal, before walking on, leaving Tannis finally alone on the bank of the Bowmont. Tucking her wand into the pocket of her cardigan, she drew her sweater close around her body, and started her walk to the house, all the while thinking of spotted things and big dark eyes.

That night, she dreamt she was a deer.

* * *

She hated London.

The air was too thick, the streets were too crowded, and quiet was hard to come by. Darley always teased her for it, but she loved the north, where people were scarce and the air smelled like air. Besides, the Muggle world was inescapable here—half thanks to Darley, who liked to take in the exotic atmosphere whenever she had the opportunity—and Tannis had never felt at home in the Muggle world. It came, she supposed, from growing up with a wizard like her grandfather, who both valued and required his privacy, and who himself was so innately entrenched in the magical that the antithesis felt unnatural. Sometimes she wondered if she was destined to spend her whole life in the bastle, tending to her grandfather's collections until the end of time. When she thought of air raids and Hindenburgs, however, she conceded there were far worse fates.

Tannis dusted a bit of stray Floo powder from her skirt and stepped out into the bustling Diagon Alley high street from within the Three Broomsticks, standing for a moment on the tips of her toes to see above the scurrying crowd. Holding her satchel close to her hip, she made her way down the cobblestone streets in the direction of Sugarplum's Sweets Shop, where before long, she found a gangly blonde with big brown eyes rocking back and forth on her heels in anticipation, scanning the street anxiously.

When their eyes met, the girls raced through the crowd, embracing happily when at last they reached each other. Darley, who towered over her, picked her up in her excitement, and gave a twirl with the smaller girl in her arms.

"Have you got my jumper?" asked Darletta Foxing-Lessons as Tannis's feet landed on the ground, always one to focus on the task at hand. "I missed it all summer, you know."

"Yes, I have. You can breathe, now," replied Tannis, pulling the sweater from the depths of her enchanted bag. "How was Tasmania?"

"Dull," groaned Darletta. After a moment, she conceded, "All right, well, not dull, but I had to share a room with Orson and he's been _such a little git_ since he received his letter."

Tannis grinned as they made their way inside the shop, bells ringing above their heads. "Best hope he's not sorted into Ravenclaw, then."

"Ha!" Darley sneered. "He's too thick for Ravenclaw. Better he ends up in Hufflepuff, for his own good. Or Slytherin."

"I take it back," Tannis smirked at her friend. "Really you'd best hope he's not sorted into _Slytherin_. Then he'll be a _right_ git."

"Well," replied Darley, her ears turning the lightest tint of pink, "not all Slytherins are so bad." As they made their way toward the till, Darletta quickly placed a galleon onto the counter with a _clink,_ pushing Tannis to the side before she could stop her. "Two pumpkin pasties, please."

"You don't have to," Tannis insisted, blushing with sickles in hand. "Grandfather's started paying me for all the cataloguing I've been doing, so—"

"Great! So you can owe me," said Darley, sticking her tongue out as she handed her friend the largest pumpkin pasty Tannis had ever seen. "Really, Tan, it's nothing. You know how father is, always throwing money around—s'pose it's his way of apologizing for never being home. Look, I even gave you the better one."

"Are you bribing me?" Tannis asked in mock suspicion. Darletta wrapped her arm around the other girl's shoulder as they turned from the counter.

"Who can say," answered Darley with a smile before the girls took their usual spot on the windowsill. Every summer, for the past four summers, she and Darley had eaten pumpkin pasties on this same ledge, trading stories and observing the madness of the alley outside. They had even carved their initials into the wood of the window pane in the summer before their second year, and even still, their amalgamated sigil of "D and T" remained untouched. Tannis liked to imagine it would remain that way forever.

After trading stories of the summer's events—of which Darley had many, and Tannis had little—Tannis noticed that Darletta's pasty had remained largely untouched. _Now, that's strange_ , she thought. After Darley finished her tale of pushing her brother into a puddle of mud in Waratah, she asked her what was the matter, threatening to take the sweet for herself, if she refused. After a moment, Darley starting fiddling nervously with her wand, and answered.

"I spent some time with Bry—Avery over the summer," Darley said, staring into her lap.

"Avery?" replied Tannis. "The seventh year?"

"That's the one," Darletta confirmed. "His mum 'n mine go back, and she had them 'round for dinner before we left… He lives just over the way. You know, I remember him from when we were little, and I hated him then. He was always telling me I looked like a stork."

Tannis gave her a knowing look, green eyes darting from the pink tips of her ears to the increasingly rosy quality of her cheeks. "And what's he think now?" she asked.

Darley smiled mistily, seemingly despite herself. "Differently."

" _Darley._ "

"He's charming!" Darletta insisted, swatting the brunette lightly on the leg. "It must be all that time he spends with Tom Riddle—you know what _he's_ like. And he's _tall,_ Tan. Do you know how hard it is for a girl like me? I'm lucky people don't spread rumors I'm half-giant."

"You're too skinny to be half giant," teased Tannis. "I'd sooner believe you're part stork."

" _Tan_ ," Darletta groaned. "I'm nervous. He…he kissed me, but who knows how he'll act, once term starts? How do I know he even likes me?"

"Well, did he say he did?"

"He didn't say all that much, to tell the truth," Darley answered. "But he's tall, and he's a beater, so he's got those arms, and mum would just _die,_ you know?"

After a moment of quick deliberation, Tannis stood up with a smile, offering the other girl her hand. "We'll go to that Muggle shop you like so much, then. Get you something fetching. You may look like a stork _most_ of the time, but…"

Darley laughed and gave her hand a squeeze, tittering excitedly on the edge of the sill. The pasty was gone in a manner of seconds.

* * *

When Tannis arrived home, it was already well after dark. Her grandfather was sat at the kitchen table, poring over a sun-bleached bit of parchment covered in runes, and pot of stew bubbled dutifully over the fire, awaiting her return. As she stepped over the threshold of the fireplace, tired and covered in soot, her grandfather looked up at her with a look that was as much a smile as it appeared he could manage. He looked older to her lately, somehow. _Probably tired_ , she thought—this was a familiar sight to her of late, her grandfather huddled over a table of scrolls and maps, scribbling endlessly in his journal. Preparing for the trip was seemingly all he did, but that was comforting, in its own way.

"How was London?" he asked. "Did you get everything? Was it enough?"

Tannis produced a purple coin purse from her bag and dropped it in front of him on the tabletop. "More than," she answered with a beleaguered little smile. "There's change in there. Should I leave it for you?"

He pushed the purse away. "You keep it," he replied. "A bonus, for all your help this summer; I have what I need, and then some. It'll be better off in your pocket than mine."

Her smile widened a little. "Thanks, grandfather."

The wizard rose from his seat. He stretched for a good long while, and she wondered how long he'd been sitting there. From inside a lopsided cabinet, he produced two wooden bowls, and ladled into them two generous portions of stew. Tannis sat, pushing aside some rolled maps and bits of parchment, and accepted the bowl with gusto, slumping into her chair. The girls had spent all their time—and most of their money—shopping for school supplies, treats, and a new shirtwaist dress for Darley at a shop called _Elizabeth's_ in downtown London. They hadn't stopped to eat, or anything else, for that matter, and the day's excitement had worn on her.

After he had sat, the old man asked, "How is Darley?"

"Same as ever," Tannis replied, shoveling stew into her mouth. "She's got herself a boyfriend."

"You don't say?" replied her grandfather.

Tannis nodded. "It's true. Brycus Avery. Seventh year."

"Avery?" the wizard asked. She wondered if he knew the name, but he said nothing of it, if he did. "What house is the boy in?"

Tannis gave him a pointed look and said, "Slytherin. I don't know why she couldn't have picked some nice Ravenclaw. She's not as hardened as that lot."

Tannis's grandfather paused for a moment. "You're not worried, are you?" he asked.

She looked at him, not understanding. "No. Should I be?"

The wizard waved his hand. "No, no. I only meant that the two of you are attached to one another like a stubborn old sticking charm. I had thought you might be nervous, now that Darley has someone new to run her mouth to."

Tannis paused; she hadn't thought of that. It was true that girls had spent nearly every waking minute together since the day they met. They had shared a dormitory all five years; they had identical schedules; until very recently, they had been nearly identical people, as much as two girls could be. Would Darley really replace her with a pair of strong arms, strong _Slytherin_ arms? Thinking on it, she wasn't sure. She had no history to look back on.

"I don't know," she mused, staring into her lap. "You don't suppose I ought to be?"

"Of course not," her grandfather answered. "Don't fret, Tan. Boys come and go. The only thing you ought to worry about is what terrible company she'll be until the fever breaks."

"Or worse," Tannis joked, leaning back in her chair, "that she'll pass it on to me."


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's** **Note:** Had this one ready for a while, so a quick update. Enjoy!

* * *

Chapter Two

* * *

The sky was still dark when Tannis brought her trunk down the steps into the kitchen. She found her grandfather sat at the table, as had become his habit, but his maps, journals, bits and bobs were now packed neatly away, safe inside his faded canvas rucksack. He was stirring coffee in a chipped yellow mug, sat close to the hearth, and when he heard her approach, he smiled. She returned it as best she could, and took the seat across from him, warming her hands by the fire.

"You're all packed, then?" she asked. The wizard nodded.

"I am," he confirmed. "I'll be off by midday. Still got to protect the house—I have some Russian warding charms in mind that should do the trick."

Tannis cocked a brow at that. "Anything I should be worried about, when I come home for Christmas holiday?"

Her grandfather did the same. "You think you'll be back for Christmas?"

The witch shrugged, staring off at the view of the wolds and the river through the kitchen window, feeling suddenly downtrodden. The thought of the bastle empty, bathed in snow, felt unnatural, surreal. The thought of a Christmas without the wizard's (admittedly lackluster) Yorkshire pudding, even more so.

"I don't know…I suppose it wouldn't be the same, with you away. It'd be lonely, wouldn't it?" mused Tannis.

"Might be that it would," he replied. Noting the glum expression on his granddaughter's face, the man continued, "Well, I'll figure something out, whatever you decide. Should be easy—didn't win the Angus Buchanan back in the day for nothing, did I? Don't want my granddaughter's hand to catch fire when she goes to turn the knob."

Tannis smiled a little. "Are you excited?"

"Perhaps I am," the wizard admitted with a small grin. "It's been quite a long time."

"You promise you'll be careful?" she asked.

"I do," he replied. "I've been preparing for this for longer than you know, girl."

"I'm very jealous, you know," Tannis teased. "When I was little, you always promised you'd take me somewhere exotic."

"I won't be gone forever," answered her grandfather. "I'm barely 60, aren't I? Plenty of time for adventures, once you're done with school."

Tannis hung the kettle over the fire, standing to fetch herself some tea and toast. "You'd better mean it, old man."

"Haven't lied to you yet," he said. His dark green eyes fell to the trunk at her back, then to her face. Standing there, smiling slyly, he thought she looked not unlike her mother. "Should I come with you to King's Cross, for old time's sake?"

The witch shook her head. "No, best not. I don't want you to miss your portkey. Besides, given my luck, I'll lose my head on the platform and start bawling in front of everyone. I have a reputation to maintain."

There was a twinkle in her grandfather's eye. "Wouldn't want to tarnish your good name."

She smirked. "Not mine—Darley's. If I embarrass her in front of that boy, I'll end up spending the feast in the hospital wing."

* * *

" _Please_ come!"

"Darley, he asked to see _you,_ " Tannis reminded her friend, nose buried in a book she had stolen from her grandfather's collection. Over the final week of the summer holidays, Darletta had informed her ecstatically with a mouthful of cauldron cake, Brycus Avery had unexpectedly asked her to be his girlfriend. He had apparently insisted she make the journey to school with him and his friends, so Darley had spent the last twenty minutes of the trip begging Tannis to go with her for support.

Tannis looked up over the top of the book to see Darletta pouting like a child. _"_ Don't you think he'll be disappointed if he sees me tagging along?" she asked.

Darletta rolled her eyes. "Come on, Tan, it's not like we'll be on a date. I told him you'd come along, anyway, and there'll be other people in the compartment, so—"

"Other _Slytherins_ in the compartment," Tannis clarified for her. "And they're all older, besides. I don't know any of them."

"I know," her friend conceded, sounding defeated. "Why do you think I don't want to go myself? I only know Brycus, and some of his friends are so intimidating... Like _Lestrange_ —do you really want to leave me alone with _Lestrange_?"

"Wasn't your argument that _I_ shouldn't worry about being left alone with Lestrange?" Tannis asked pointedly. Darletta shuffled her feet, looking miserable. Tannis sighed. Never one to deny Darley, she rose to her feet begrudgingly, closing her book in a huff. "Fine, fine. This had better be all right, Darley, or I swear—"

Darletta squealed and made a little jump in the throes of her excitement. She pulled the petite girl to her, squeezing her in happiness. "Oh, it will, it will, I promise! We'll be at school soon enough, anyway—you don't even have to put up with it for long. I just…gosh, Tan, I can't believe he asked me—"

"I know, I know," jested Tannis. "It's a miracle, a fairy tale."

As Tannis opened the door to the hall of the train, Darley gave her a little shove in retaliation for her teasing, causing her to tumble helplessly into a severe-looking Gryffindor girl with ginger hair. Darletta barked out an embarrassed laugh, covering her mouth in shock, and Tannis apologized, blushing madly, before glaring over her shoulder at her friend, who stepped out giggling into the corridor, taking hold of the smaller girl's arm. The Gryffindor girl said nothing, but looked down her nose at the pair of them, smoothing out the front of her sweater as she retreated.

"You won't regret it, Tan, swear," Darley insisted earnestly, once the girl was out of earshot.

"I regret it already," she answered. "Do you even know what compartment—"

" _Yes,_ " insisted Darley. "Avery said they would be in the Head Boy's compartment."

"Head Boy?" asked Tannis. "Who is it? Certainly not Lestrange."

"Tom Riddle, I expect," replied Darletta. "Brycus didn't say, but it must be, right? He received that award last year after all that nasty business with the Muggleborns, poor Myrtle, bless her… and he _is_ a prefect, after all. Docked me twenty points for coming late from Hogsmeade last term, even though I'd just forgotten my scarf at Honeydukes 'n told him as much."

"It must be, then," Tannis agreed. She shuddered softly and thought, as she often had this summer, about Myrtle. Myrtle Warren had been younger than Tannis and Darley—too much younger to know her very well, but the girl's death had left a solemn rift in the Ravenclaws' collective consciousness, as well as the rest of the school's. To make matters worse, Myrtle still lingered as a ghost in the lavatory where the monster had killed her, and she had changed in the process. Warren had never been the most amicable girl, but in death, her heart had seemingly been torn to shreds, and she was fundamentally different from the girl she had been in life, unpleasantness aside. Tannis did not pretend to be the most well-adjusted person when it came to matters of human mortality, but the thought of spending eternity like that made her blood run cold. Darley, she noticed, had gone silent too, but whether that was from old or present worries was difficult to say.

They arrived quietly at the compartment in a few minutes time—it was tucked away at the far front of the train, at the opposite end from the Head Girl's. The glass on its door, unlike those of the other cabins on the train, was frosted, and emblazoned with an ornate golden 'H' at its center. Apart from some faint shadows, there was no way to see inside. Tannis could hear muffled chatter, but heard no voices she could recognize.

The girls looked at each other soundlessly for a moment. Tannis nudged the other forward, nodding her head in the direction of the compartment, and Darley, ears quickly turning pink, took a deep breath in preparation, closing her eyes. Fidgeting, she rapped on the frosted glass, then stepped back, playing anxiously with a lock of her flaxen hair. Tannis had never seen her like this. _All over a boy?_ she wondered.

Abruptly, the door slid open to reveal Asterion Lestrange, who eyed the girls with plain suspicion. He presented an imposing figure to Tannis, towering over her by a head and a half, perhaps more, but stood at a height with Darletta, who immediately dropped the bit of hair she'd been toying with.

"Yes?" asked Lestrange, his tone one of disinterest, right brow raised in obvious disdain.

"I'm, er…" Darletta started, standing a little taller than normal in an attempt to appear less flustered than she was. Tannis had seen this tactic before. "I'm looking for Avery. He's expecting me."

Lestrange blinked at her for a moment before his lips curled into a smirk, the realization of who she was and why she was there finally dawning on him. Looking over his shoulder into the compartment, the boy called, "Oy, Avery. Your girl's here."

There was the barest commotion inside—one boy whistled, to more muted laughter—and in a moment, Brycus Avery appeared beside his friend in the doorframe, leaning on one arm up against the wood. Darley hadn't been lying—he _was_ tall, well over six foot, and Tannis could see what the other girl saw in him, if only physically. He was meticulously neat, already dressed in his freshly pressed uniform, with luxurious golden blond hair that was smoothed into a orderly side part. He kissed the girl's hand, not missing a beat, appearing summarily a perfect gentleman. The seventh year smiled at his new girlfriend beguilingly, and two handsome dimples appeared before the hollows of his cheeks. There was something decidedly boyish about him, still, but given a few years time… _No wonder she won't shut up about him,_ Tannis thought. Surrounded by these elegant figures, she was suddenly very conscious of how petite she really was, to her discomfort. She wasn't used to feeling small.

Darley had been standing tall before, playing tough in front of Lestrange, but as soon as Avery took her hand, she positively melted, and lost a good two inches from her height. Lestrange scoffed and retreated into the cabin, but not before giving Tannis the once-over, leaving her feeling even more self-conscious than she already had.

"You look beautiful, Darletta," said Brycus. He had a somewhat high voice, but a molten one. He sounded like some kind of prince. "Thank you for coming. I was worried you wouldn't." The girl blushed becomingly, as if she would _ever dream_ of it, and when he released her hand, she cradled it delicately, obviously in complete awe of him. He then directed his handsome, mechanical smile at Tannis, who returned it with her best effort.

"I don't believe we've met," Avery said.

Tannis glanced over at her twittering friend briefly before politely offering her own hand to the boy, standing as tall as she could. "We haven't, no. Tannis. Tannis Killiken. Charmed."

"Of course," replied Avery. Rather than shake her hand, he gave her fingers a gentle squeeze; Tannis found herself grateful he hadn't kissed hers, too. "An absolute pleasure, Tannis. Brycus Avery. Darletta mentioned you."

"I do hope you don't mind I brought her along, Brycus," said Darley. "I was—well, a little nervous."

Avery simply continued to smile. "Not at all. I'm just happy you came. Would you like to come in? It's quite spacious in here."

"We'd love to," Darley replied, grinning to her friend at her side. "Right, Tan?"

Tannis smiled what was not truly a smile, but it seemed to please Darley regardless. "Sounds…lovely," she agreed. "Thank you, er—"

"Brycus. Please," he beamed, standing aside and opening the length his arm to beckon them into the cabin. Inside sat five Slytherin boys: Lestrange, Owen Rosier, two boys she recognized, but didn't know by name, and, of course, Tom Riddle, his shiny Head Boy's badge pinned proudly to the lapel of his blazer. Riddle was propped against the far wall of the carriage with one leg stretched out before him, taking the entire bench for himself, a closed book clutched in his hand. It was true what Brycus had said, however; the cabin _was_ spacious, much larger than any of the others she'd seen on the train, with plush velveteen benches lining the compartment perimeter. The other boys were sat quite comfortably in the space that remained. _I guess this is what you get when you kill a beast for the staff..._

As Avery shut the door behind them, Tannis was suddenly very aware of the boys' appraising stares. The talking she had heard from outside the compartment had ceased altogether, and the silence that replaced it hung heavy. Tannis wasn't usually one to be uncomfortable around strangers, even boys, but…even amongst Ravenclaws, Tom Riddle and his friends were infamous. He'd avenged Myrtle, after all, and the group had always had an undeniable air about it that preceded them, even before last year's events. She had seen them all before, at Slug Club functions, in the halls, but she'd never been introduced to them formally, until now. They were quite a different force in close quarters, she thought, and she found their scrutiny quite uncomfortable.

Avery came up beside them—between them, rather—and put his arm around Darley's shoulders, who at once went simultaneously rigid and wobbly-kneed at his touch. "Boys," he started, breaking the icy quiet, "allow me to introduce Miss Darletta Foxing-Lessons, and Miss Tannis Killiken, of Ravenclaw house."

The boys all uttered their hellos but for Riddle, who simply continued to stare, smiling politely. Soon, though, the Head Boy straightened in his seat, turning inward to sit in it properly. As Avery guided Darletta to sit beside him near the window, Riddle gestured at the newly open space on the bench beside him, still smiling at Tannis congenially.

"Would you like to sit, Miss Killiken?" he asked, dark eyes trained on hers. He was even more handsome up close, she thought before she could help it, but the realization did little to ease her discomfort.

"Thank you," she answered. She pulled at her skirt and sat beside him, crossing her legs at the ankles. She stole a glance at Darletta, but she and Avery were speaking quietly to one another, already seemingly in their own world. _I really well might as well be here alone,_ she thought. She felt very alone, indeed.

"Tom Riddle," he introduced himself, as if she didn't know who he was already. He reached out to shake her hand, and she was struck by the elegant quality of his hands. _Is every inch of him good looking?_

"Pleasure," Tannis replied.

"Your grandfather's famous, eh, Killiken?" asked Rosier eagerly, oozing Slytherin ambition, as he leaned forward a bit on his elbows. Tannis hoped she wouldn't blush—she hated when people brought up her grandfather so quickly.

"I suppose so," answered Tannis. "To me he's just grandfather, though."

"Isn't he some kind of blood traitor?" asked another of the boys, one of the pair she didn't know. He had a brutish sort of face, and although they'd just met—and barely—he already left Tannis with a bad taste in her mouth. Beside her, Tom Riddle was watching her closely, as were the other boys. Even Darley and Avery had paused in their canoodling, awaiting her response. This time, she did blush.

"I suppose some of his opinions are a bit…well…fringe," answered Tannis.

"That was quite rude, Mulciber," interjected Riddle smoothly, giving his friend a cross look. Mulciber immediately lost his edge, sinking back into the seat cushions, and Riddle looked at her sympathetically. "I apologize, Miss Killiken. Mulciber has no manners."

"I can see so," she replied, pretending to be nonplussed. Lestrange, Rosier, and the other boy chuckled at their friend's expense; even Riddle smirked, and Tannis released a breath she had not known she was holding. Poor Mulciber's face was the color of a candied apple, his arms crossed across his chest.

"He's not a _'blood traitor,'"_ Darley intervened indignantly on her friend's behalf, leaning aggressively inward. "He's written about Muggleborns, sure, but that doesn't make you a blood traitor. 'Sides, you'd have to be really thick if you think that's all he studies. He's quite well known."

Mulciber sneered at her, obviously the sort of thick Darletta had described. "Yeah? What's he study, then?"

For a moment, Darley opened her mouth as if to respond, but no sound came out—Avery's arm had once again snaked itself around her shoulders, and she suddenly appeared as if she had forgotten all about her little row with Mulciber and again only had eyes for Brycus. Tannis swore she caught a hint of something uncontrolled in Avery's eyes as he looked at his friend, but Mulciber only scoffed and looked expectantly at Tannis.

"His specialty is arcane magic," Tannis said, choosing her words carefully. "The bulk of his work focuses on ritual traditions—folk magic, some would say. He dabbles, though."

Riddle seemed intrigued at that. "What sort of rituals?"

"Fertility, empowerment, divining," replied Tannis. "Some Dark things, as well, but he's never let me near any of it."

"'Near' any of it?" asked Lestrange, leering at her again like he had earlier in the corridor.

"He's a collector," she explained, a bit hesitantly. _He wouldn't like me running my mouth,_ she thought, and caught herself. Grandfather's collections were more vast than anyone knew, and much of what he'd learned he kept hidden away, never published. "He keeps—artifacts, grimoires… He's begun to catalogue it all, since he doesn't travel as much, in his old age, and I help him with it now. Some stuff he doesn't trust even me with, though."

"Why wouldn't he trust his own granddaughter?" Riddle asked.

"I used to…experiment," she replied carefully after a momentary pause. "Got myself hurt, a couple of times; you know, little girls getting into things they shouldn't. Besides, some of these objects are inherently dangerous, and I certainly don't know how to handle them all." She did her best to sound nonchalant. Riddle was watching her with an unreadable expression that was not exactly comforting, but he did not press her for details, for which she was grateful. _Don't want Darley's new friends to think I'm a nutter,_ Tannis thought. Darley would sooner kill her than forgive her, and the less outsiders knew about what grandfather kept in the cellars, the better. Subconsciously, she placed a hand atop the scar on her forearm.

The train sounded its horn, which was uncommonly loud, at this end of the train: they'd be arriving at Hogwarts before they knew it. Tannis glanced at her lap, saw the color of her jumper, and realized with a start she was still wearing her own clothes. She stood, once again smoothing the length of her skirt under the boys' persistent examination, and Darley's lovelorn trance was once again broken by her friend's movements.

"Where're you off to?" she asked before Tannis could excuse herself.

"I can't very well show up wearing this, can I?" Tannis reasoned. Darletta was already wearing her uniform, so she said, "You don't need to come, if you'd rather stay with Brycus."

Darley furrowed her brow. "Are you sure, Tan? It's no—"

"I think I can manage, Darley," she insisted with a smile. "I'll see you later on."

Avery grinned winningly at the blonde, and ran a hand down the crest of her upper arm. Darletta snapped her head around to face him with stars in her eyes.

"Stay, Darley," he urged. "I won't see you until after the feast..." Darletta melted once more, smiling dreamily at Avery, then back at Tannis.

"I'll see you at supper, Tan," she said, to which Tannis nodded in response. She turned to leave, but was stopped by a voice, at which she turned to look back over her shoulder, hand still resting eagerly on the handle.

"Pleasure meeting you, Miss Killiken," said Tom Riddle, who was again watching her with the same polite smile as before. "I'm sure we'll have the honor of your company again soon enough. I hope you'll trust me when I tell you that Mulciber isn't always so…inquisitive." His dark eyes held hers, like her own had held the doe she'd seen along the Water, and despite herself, she felt herself bite nervously at the inner flesh of her lip.

She nodded with a perfunctory smile, and Darletta mouthed the words _'thank you'_ at her soundlessly as she exited the Head Boy's cabin. Sliding the glass behind her safely closed, she exhaled, relieved to be finally free. _Of all the boys at Hogwarts,_ Tannis thought, shaking her head, _she just had to pick one of_ them _._

Tannis started briskly down the corridor, thinking about deer and green fire. Inside the compartment, Tom Riddle stared for a minute at the empty doorway, and reopened his copy of _Death Among the Inca,_ by Acamar Mauritius Killiken.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:** Some more Tom in this one. It's a snail's pace, but we're getting there. Thank you to everyone who's followed and favorited this story so far. 0:)

* * *

Chapter Three

* * *

Tannis had just opened her book at the Ravenclaw table when two hands clutched her shoulders abruptly from behind. Dropping the little black tome with a start on its open face, she glared at Darley's giggling visage as the other girl snagged the spot beside her, grinning from ear to ear.

"You're too easy," the blonde teased. "Scaredy cat."

"And you're awful," replied Tannis. Gathering her composure, Tannis picked her book up, closed it properly, and set it down on the bench beside her hip, tucked safely just beneath her thigh. "How was the rest of your trip?" she asked in a tone which insinuated that she already knew the answer. Darletta blushed demurely and poured herself a gobletful of pumpkin juice from the nearest carafe, clearing her throat daintily.

"All right," Darley answered with a bashful smile. Chocolatey eyes glazed over, she seemed to leave her earthly body for a moment, lost in hopeless reminiscence, but she recovered quickly enough. Darley took her friend's hand in hers, meeting her gaze with a look of honest sincerity. "Thank you for coming with me, Tan. I really was nervous. Might be I wouldn't have even made it, if you hadn't come, so..."

Tannis smiled cheekily. "Anytime, I s'pose," she said, "even if they are...interesting." Darley swept in giddily, and kissed her affectionately on the cheek.

"I'm so sorry about Mulciber," Darley moaned. "I don't know what that was all about, but—"

Tannis shrugged, and thought to herself she would prefer that it was never mentioned again. "It's all right, really. Lots of people are curious about grandfather."

"Still," Darletta shivered. "With all this antimuggle business going around, Grindelwald 'n all, it was _creepy_. Riddle let him have it, after you left."

Tannis tensed, remembering the odd feeling she'd gotten when their eyes met, before she'd gone off to change. "You're not serious."

Darley put her hand earnestly over her heart. "Swear! Told him he was rude and to never say anything about it again. Said all it'll do is put you off."

 _Put me off what?_ she wondered. Resisting the urge to let her brow furrow, knowing it would just hurt Darley's ego, she instead attempted a meager smile.

"That's all right of him, isn't it," Tannis remarked.

"I'm sure once you get to know them—" Darletta started, but suddenly she was interrupted by Headmaster Dippet's booming voice. Darley sighed up at the headmaster at his podium, but Tannis, however, was grateful she would not have to pretend that she could someday like Avery's friends.

"Welcome, welcome, to another term at Hogwarts!" the Headmaster called, sending the students into a round of varying degrees of applause. Tannis looked around at her housemates, smiling and waving at familiar and friendly faces, but the tension at the table—especially amongst the fifth years, who sat clumped together near the doors—was impossible to ignore. Myrtle Warren's face flashed in her mind like a spark, and her own applause died down before the cacophony dulled completely.

"To our old students, _welcome back!_ To the new, I am delighted to welcome you to your first year," Dippet said. He extended his arms wide in welcome, smiling warmly at the group of first years waiting anxiously before him. The hall again erupted in applause. "Your years here will be…"

In the crowd of first years, which was herded anxiously before the teachers' platform, Tannis spotted a familiar mop of messy, golden hair, and recognized the nervous face of Orson Foxing-Lessons that hid beneath it. He was as subdued as she had ever seen him, staring wide-eyed at the immensity of the Hall and Headmaster Dippet's pronounced decorum as he stood at the podium. She elbowed Darletta, pointing him out, and the girls traded mocking imitations of his uncharacteristically innocent expression. When he caught them, his ears turned pink, like his sister was so often apt to do, and he stuck his tongue out at them, turning away indignantly. Tannis and Darley exchanged looks.

"If he ends up in Ravenclaw," Darley whispered, "I'll go home, I swear."

"…I'm afraid I must begin on a somber note," Dippet continued. "As our returning students will all remember, and many of our newcomers will already know, we suffered a great loss last term. I am here to assure you, as I have in the past, that the creature who stole Myrtle Warren from us has been eradicated, and the boy responsible, expelled. Never again will you be forced to endure such danger and heartbreak under Hogwarts' care and protection. Any doubts that remain, please put them aside. Your safety is, and always has been, our highest priority.

"On that note," proceeded Dippet, "we have also taken measures to protect the castle against infiltration by Grindelwald and his forces, as well as collateral damage from the Muggle war efforts…"

As Dippet continued to drone on, eventually rattling off Quidditch tryouts dates and a few hand-selected rules, Tannis drifted off, scanning the room. As she did, she wondered if Dippet's words of reassurance had truly done anything to alleviate any of her classmates' worries. If anything, many students—especially her housemates—looked more bemused than they had before his speech, apparently quite unthankful for the headmaster's grim reminder. The exception, of course, were the Slytherin students, who as usual displayed little regard for the safety or feelings of their peers. Difficult to miss, her eyes found Avery and his friends almost immediately, and she frowned as Mulciber and the other unfamiliar boy quietly shared a dodgy-looking private joke, at which the boys giggled like first years into their hands. Averting her eyes in disgust, she happened across another familiar face quite nearby the boys—that, of course, of Tom Riddle.

For a moment, she wondered if he had even seen her; almost just as soon as their eyes had locked, he was once again staring up at Headmaster Dippet, wearing his usual sincere, respectful expression, the summate appearance of a perfectly dutiful Head Boy. She quickly realized, however, that as he had looked away, her head had begun to hurt—a dull throb on the left side of her skull, accompanied by a flush. Images flashed quickly across her mind: a green fire, a gash on her forearm, a door slammed shut.

 _What's he playing at?_ she thought in a fervor, intuition burning as she stared at the older boy's innocent profile, her head beginning to swim. _Why am I…_ Tannis brought a hand to her temple, leaning inward to support the weight of her head, elbow bent to rest on the table.

Darletta quickly noticed the shift in her friend's demeanor, and looked at her worriedly, resting her hand gingerly on Tannis's shoulder.

"All right, Tan?" she whispered. Her face was a mask of grave sincerity. All around her, Tannis noticed, their housemates were watching her with concern, even pity. _They must think I'm upset about Myrtle,_ she realized. The hall again began to clap; looking again to the platform, she saw Professor Merrythought assume center stage, sorting hat in hand. Once more, she stole a glance at Tom Riddle, hoping—or not hoping—to catch his stare. However, she found him only to be watching the sorting with a welcoming smile, ready to receive his newly sorted first years.

"I'm all right," Tannis answered finally, smiling lamely at her friend. "Headache." Darley frowned, rubbing her on the shoulder, before turning to watch the ceremony herself. To comfort her, she looped an arm around Tannis's shoulders, holding her close in support.

Tannis, however, could not focus on the sorting. Instead she was stuck replaying the vivid memories that had so suddenly overwhelmed her, the look on Tom Riddle's face. _Why now?_ she wondered. _Why the headache? Am I really just strung up over Myrtle?_

Watching the ceremony absently, she fought the urge look at Tom Riddle, instead choosing to fantasize about the feast. When Orson Lessons was sorted into Slytherin, she found she lost her appetite.

* * *

The term began as uneventfully as ever.

To Tannis's disdain, the NEWT level courses she had so eagerly anticipated over the summer holiday were proving, at least at the onset, to be devastatingly easy. She had earned every OWL she had attempted last term with an E or better, save for Care of Magical Creatures, and had taken a full load of classes, ready at last for a challenge. Rather than challenge her, her NEWTs, like the classes of previous terms, were essentially proving to be elaborate boasting rituals, ultimately ending in unsatisfied feelings and showers of adulation from her more earnest professors.

This routine had always been especially common in Potions with Professor Slughorn. Because it was both her favorite class and her speciality, she was one of the portly professor's favorites, and had been an early inductee to the Slug Club, thanks to her skill and her surname. This year, however, potions was her final class, and after a seemingly endless barrage of classes that either bored or insulted her, she had little hope that Slughorn's class would provide any reprieve. When she and Darley arrived in the dungeons that afternoon, the professor gave her a nod and a wink that she returned with a less-than-heartfelt smile. Beside her, Darletta snorted, and gave her a nudge in the ribs with her elbow.

As an introductory exercise, Slughorn, to Tannis's surprise, presented to the class an actual _challenge_ : Brew a perfect Draught of Living Death, and the Professor would bestow upon the victor a vial of Felix Felicis.

At the professor's behest, Tannis eagerly opened up her textbook to the necessary recipe. The challenge, however, was quickly proven to be, indeed, a challenge. Though Tannis made an arguably valiant effort to recreate the draft, she saw the undeniable signs of her failure as they occurred—discoloring here, unexpected gurgling there. Glowering down at her copy of _Advanced Potion Making,_ she sighed as Slughorn came to her cauldron to test her batch.

The professor dropped a little leaf onto the surface of her potion. It quickly tuned black, as though scorched, but floated persistently atop the surface, like a little burnt-out boat. He wagged a finger at her, shaking his head. Staring down at her potion and the over-persistent leaf, Tannis very nearly blushed.

"Close, Miss Killiken, very close, but as the Muggles say, _no cigar,_ " Slughorn laughed, patting her on the back. "The leaf should burn away, you see. Still, an impressive effort! Though by now I have learned to expect no less of you."

"Thank you, Professor," Tannis answered as she slid her textbook into her bag, looking up at the professor's smiling face. She brushed her hair out of her face before staring once again into the depths of the potion that had bested her, then at the very downtrodden lot of Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs that surrounded her. For once, she counted herself amongst them. Slughorn clucked his tongue as he moved to the front of the classroom, holding the coveted vial of liquid luck high in his hand, a testament to their failure.

"Alas!" he exclaimed. "It seems I shall have to keep this prize for myself." He glanced around the room and laughed merrily at his pupils' misfortunes. "Now, now, chin up. This is advanced magic, _very_ advanced. Why, the day when a student manages to brew a successful Draught of Living Death…" He shook his head at the absurdity, belly shaking jovially. "However! I hope we have all learned an important lesson—the teaching of which being the very reason I crafted this exercise: Potion making is an art. _Magic_ is an art. To grow, we must treat it as such." He tucked the vial inside the pocket of his robes, then flailed his arms to shoo the class from the dungeon. "Anyhow, you are dismissed! I will see you all on Thursday."

The classroom quickly emptied, her classmates eager to leave their failures behind. Darletta was taking her hair down from the messy working bun she'd worn it in as she gestured for Tannis to follow. Tannis held up her finger, and Darley huffed, shaking her head as she headed for the door. Tannis shot her an apologetic smile that was not returned, but Darley remained in the archway nonetheless, waiting dutifully for her friend.

"Do you need help cleaning up, sir?" Tannis asked, approaching Slughorn in the center of the room. He turned, surprised, before he beamed at her.

"Ah, Miss Killiken!" he greeted her. "No, no, I believe I can manage." With a casual wave of his wand, the room was meticulously reset to its former state, and Tannis smiled at the display of mastery.

"I meant what I said, Killiken," Slughorn said as the final cauldron slid back into position. "It was a very good effort."

"Thank you, sir," she responded. "It's a very temperamental potion, isn't that so?"

" _Very_ so," Slughorn confirmed. "No matter, my dear, I have no doubt you shall get there in time. As I said before, no student of mine has ever been able to brew a satisfactory draft. Though, I had hoped you might be the first."

"Well, when I do," said Tannis, "I'll be sure to tell you all your flattery wasn't for naught." Slughorn was delighted at that, and as he laughed, Tannis stole a glance at Darley, who was standing impatiently in the archway looking positively pained by her friend's delay.

"You know, Miss Killiken," he began, "I'm having a little back-to-school roundup tonight, in my office. It's not like the bigger functions; no, it's a more _select_ group… only my NEWT students, you see, and only those that are up to snuff. Perhaps you'd make a good fit."

Tannis repositioned her heavy schoolbag, slinging it across her unburdened shoulder. "Tonight, you said?" she asked.

"Yes, after dinner," said Slughorn. "I do hope you can make it! I always try to bring some extra dessert from the kitchens. Good stuff, very good stuff. But if something keeps you, well, you'll still be welcome at my other get-togethers."

"I'd love to, Professor."

"Splendid!" Slughorn clapped her again on the back. "Good show today, Killiken. I am sure your grandfather would be proud."

With a nod, Tannis rushed off, and she and Darley exited the classroom. Once the pair was out of earshot, Darley sounded a loud, tortured groan as they made their way out of the dungeons.

" _Finally_ ," she whined, stamping her feet. "We're finally free, and there you are, wasting time on Slughorn…"

"You didn't have to wait for me, you know," Tannis told her. "What about Brycus?"

"That's what I _mean_ ," Darley replied. "I told him I'd meet him by the lake once classes were finished…"

Though, Tannis thought to herself, she should have guessed Darley would be spending the rest of her afternoon with the Slytherin boy, the revelation that she would be alone until dinner still stung. She couldn't find the words to reply, but thankfully, Darley continued to rattle on about Brycus, and sunsets, and Tannis was spared long enough to compose herself.

"Are you really planning on going to Slughorn's…thing, after dinner?" Darley asked, pulling Tannis from her embarrassed fugue.

"Well, when someone tells someone they're coming to something…" said Tannis, trailing off. Darletta swatted her on the shoulder.

"You're such a schmooze," Darley said as they made their way into the castle atrium. "Don't you have anything better to do?"

"We don't all have boyfriends to spend our free time with," Tannis replied, attempting a grin so she could pretend it was only a joke. Her tone was a little colder than she meant it to be—Darley didn't seem to notice, but Tannis did, and she felt at once both indignant and silly for behaving this way, privately or not.

Darley snorted. "I don't know if Slughorn is a proper substitute for a boyfriend, Tan."

"Well," Tannis replied as they came to a halt, "it seems for now he'll have to do."

Darley laughed, smoothing and combing through her hair with her fingers as they stood in front of the main doors, which were propped open to celebrate the good weather while it lasted. In the afternoon sunlight, Darley's cornflower hair glittered, her big brown eyes ringed with gold; Tannis looked away, shoving her hands into her pockets.

"Look bad, do I?" Darley teased.

"Of course not," Tannis replied.

Darletta smiled. "I'll see you at dinner?"

Tannis nodded.

Darley gave her a playful shove before dashing off down the steps to the courtyard. Tannis stood there for a moment, collecting her thoughts. _What to do?_ she wondered. This was the first time in a long time Darletta hadn't been around to monopolize her free time, but Tannis had never expected to feel so lost without her. Maybe her grandfather had been right; maybe she _should_ be worried.

 _You're being stupid,_ Tannis thought. Perhaps this new dynamic would be a good thing. Darley rarely left her enough time to do the things she enjoyed on her own; her books were constantly being knocked out of her hands, her body being dragged through the corridors by the arm, her head always full of Darley, Darley, Darley. Reaching into her bag, she removed the weird old book she had taken from her grandfather's study. _Been trying to read this for days, and with Darley breathing down my neck over Avery, I've barely finished a page._ Feeling suddenly resolute, she slid the book back into her bag and turned to make her way to the library.

Perhaps this was just what she needed—an afternoon, free of interruptions, just her and a book, some time to herself for once—

"Miss Killiken!" a smooth voice then called from behind. Tannis turned on her heel, staring across the entrance hall to see Tom Riddle as he approached, dark eyes and silver badge glinting in the afternoon light. She tensed, touching a hand subconsciously to her scar, covered though it was by the sleeve of her Ravenclaw sweater. She had only just forgotten about the strangeness that had occurred at the welcome feast, and here he was to remind her.

"Afternoon, Riddle," Tannis greeted. _So much for a quiet afternoon._

"What a pleasant surprise," he said, bashfully tucking a battered secondhand textbook beneath the crook of his arm, as if ashamed that she'd seen it. "How are you enjoying your classes?"

"All right, so far," she said, shifting her weight from one foot onto the other. "They're not exactly what I was expecting."

"I recall the feeling," Riddle sympathized. "Is Professor Slughorn still starting with the Draught of Living Death?"

Tannis blushed, to her embarrassment, the feeling of failure still fresh in her mind. "He is, yeah."

Riddle smiled winningly at her. "I take it, from your blushing, that you had about the same luck as I did."

She shrugged modestly, feeling relieved as the heat from her blush began to fade. "Same luck as everyone, according to Slughorn. It was a nice change, though. Being challenged."

Riddle's eyes flashed at that. "I couldn't agree more." Staring up at his handsome face, she felt like an animal in a cage. She thought again of green fire, the feeling of her fingertips clinging desperately to grandfather's old Roman grimoire, hanging helplessly in the abyss. She'd had enough of it.

"Well, it was good to see you, Riddle," she beamed, moving to escape to her solitude, her sanity, or both. "I was just in a bit of a hurry to the library, so—"

"Another pleasant surprise," the Head Boy smiled back. "I was headed there myself."

Tannis's face was a mask. "Is that so?" She hiked her heavy bag higher onto her shoulder, feeling her neck begin to ache.

"Walk with me," Riddle insisted, ignoring her attempt at an exit. "I'll carry your books, if you'd like."

She took a deep breath, fighting back a sigh, and hoped that Riddle didn't notice. Her smile was still set in stone upon her face.

"That'd be nice, Riddle, thank you." She slid her schoolbag off of her tired shoulders, and he accepted it readily. Slinging it easily onto his shoulder as though its weight was nothing, hanging leisurely beside his own, she was suddenly struck at how tall he was. She hadn't noticed it, sitting beside him in the carriage, and she had never been so close to him, before Darley had gotten involved with Avery. The bottom of the satchel was about even with the bottom of her ribs. She was silent, and felt small.

"Avery seems quite taken with your friend," the older boy said nonchalantly as they turned to make their way toward the library corridor. Tannis scoffed under her breath and stared down at her feet.

"Darley's completely besotted," said Tannis evenly, taking care to watch how much she gave away with her tone of voice. Darletta might not notice such things, but she imagined Riddle wasn't as oblivious.

Riddle smirked at that. "Is he her first?"

"Boyfriend? Yes," Tannis asked, feeling bemused as she lingered again on Darley's comments from earlier. _If she saw this, heard about this, she'd have a stroke,_ Tannis thought. "She's…not been herself," she continued tepidly. "She never seemed to care much about boys, before, but all of a sudden… I mean, Ewan Rosby, for a while, but not like this. Not someone like...Avery."

He smiled down at her. "Darletta is in good hands, Miss Killiken, I assure you." Tannis quirked an eyebrow.

"Of course _you'd_ say that," she jeered, trying to keep her tone light, unbothered. "You're his friend, after all."

"You're right," admitted Riddle. Tannis waited, expecting more from him than that, some sort of follow up, a qualifier, but he said nothing, and let the statement hang in the air. She looked up at him from the corner of her eye.

"So," Tannis continued, "tell me what's so good about him, then. If you're telling the truth, that is." Riddle looked down his shoulder at her, mimicking puzzlement that felt too guarded.

"What's 'good about him,' Miss Killiken?"

Tannis shrugged a shoulder, pointedly looking forward. "I don't know much about him. Darley has mentioned him, before, but nothing about his character, or his personality. Just a lot about his arms and his eyes." She chanced a glance up at him, to gauge his expression, to see his lips curl into another charming smirk.

"Avery is loyal," Riddle responded after a moment's deliberation. "Dedicated."

"Everyone is dedicated to something," replied Tannis, her tone dismissive. "What is Avery dedicated to? Quidditch? His studies?"

"To everything," answered Tom Riddle, not missing a beat. "When he sets his mind to a task, it accomplishes itself."

Tannis considered his words for a moment before replying, "That's something, I suppose."

The pair entered the library, which was practically empty. Looking out from the windows, she saw throngs of students scattered about the grounds, soaking up the sunshine, and celebrating the successful completion of the week's first bout of classes. She made her way to her usual spot, happy for the solitude, today, and Riddle followed, still toting her bag of books. It was a good sized table by a large window, flogged by two big, worn armchairs. It was pretty in the warmer months and deserted in the cold ones, with plenty of room to work. It reminded her of home. Tannis sat in her favorite chair, the one on the left, and looked at Riddle expectantly, waiting for him to drop her things and leave her.

"Thank you for carrying my bag," Tannis said quietly, waving her hand at the opposite seat. "You can just—"

Instead of placing the bag on the chair as she had hoped, he instead placed her satchel at her feet before taking the empty seat for himself. She watched him plainly as he placed his own bag beside it, his eyes cast down as he retrieved what he needed. She felt herself flush, but found it difficult to identify the emotion that caused it.

"You don't mind?" asked Riddle, his voice maintained at its usual volume, which jarred her. Her eyes scanned the library for Madame Snick, grateful not to see her lingering in the rows. The librarian had scolded Tannis for speaking more quietly than Riddle had, once, thwacking her upside her head. She wondered if things were different, if you were Head Boy. If you were Tom Riddle.

"I—no, I suppose not," Tannis answered him hesitantly. "I don't know what company I'll be—"

"Company enough, Miss Killiken," Riddle responded, smiling. She considered the unassuming, good-looking face staring back at her, and wondered if she was crazy, or if everyone else was. She didn't trust him. Her head was beginning to hurt.

"If you're sure," she conceded, regarding him as suspiciously as she could manage undetected. She reached into her own bag, pulled out the old book of her grandfather's, and struggled, once again, to complete more than a page. Staring out the window, she wondered if Darley was having a good afternoon.


End file.
